


Us the Trio

by honorarytenenbaum



Category: Flight of the Conchords - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, New Zealand Actor RPF, New Zealand Comedy RPF, What We Do in the Shadows (2014), What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Deal With It, Gen, also fuck white misogynists, also im drunk while uploading this, also shoutout to ferris bueller's day off, love me some good 80s coming of age films, original characters cuz im tired of typing y/n all the time, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26428864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honorarytenenbaum/pseuds/honorarytenenbaum
Summary: In a lavish ’80s themed Hollywood party, Ame, Jemaine, and Taika powered through dealing with misogynistic Hollywood execs by getting day drunk and not giving a fuck. All hell broke loose when the chaotic part of the trio started giving all the fucks and taking sweet, sweet revenge.
Relationships: Jemaine Clement/Taika Waititi, Taika Waititi/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	Us the Trio

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a ridiculous Reddit thread about women lactating when they're horny, I decided to write this fluff piece about Taika and Jemaine having a third in their duo. It's actually just a fun fic. A break from the angst and smut I'm writing for "You Feel Like Hope." 
> 
> I really don't expect much from this. Please, enjoy Taika and Jemaine dressed as Ferris and Cameron from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off."

Men and power. It’s seriously a disease.

In a villa filled with film execs and ego-inflated directors, Ame found herself day drinking in a middle of a weekday. Sandwiched between fiftysomething white producers bragging about their huge yachts can do that to you. Working in the entertainment capital of the world was great, but powering through its overbearing patriarchy is not.

She couldn’t give two shits about their lavish lifestyles and their penis-length insecurities. But there she was, smiling and nodding while looking for a way out of this mess. Her main purpose for attending this GQ afternoon outdoor soiree is to sell her slice-of-life film to a production house. She wanted an opportunity.

Sadly, fishing for opportunities came with mild objectification.

She downed her glass of sauvignon with vigor. None of the executives noticed nor cared for her visible annoyance. If it took the false promise of opportunity to keep a knockout in a Sloane Petersen outfit around, then they’ll abuse that need. She knew that this was the game they were playing. And boy, she’s ready to throw the towel.

“Women lactate when they’re horny, right? That’s just science.”  
“Bro, bro, bro—they do. Don’t they?”  
“Dunno, that’s what the Reddit thread told me.”  
  
“Kill me,” she muttered her last will under her breath. Looking down at her empty wine glass, she knew it was adios amores for her. She let out a long sigh as she prepped herself for lashing a passive-aggressive comeback. Once her lips parted, she was suddenly cut off by fake gun sounds.  
  
“Bang, bang.”

With finger guns and over-the-top acting, her savior arrived in a white leather varsity jacket with forest green accents, leopard sweater vest, brown fitter trousers and white oxfords. She knew that thick New Zealand accent anywhere.

So when she turned her head to see who it was, she got the answer she was expecting. Taika Waititi; a self-described classic Leo and her romantic ride-or-die.

“Darling, may I steal you from these bigots for a minute?” he asked her graciously, offering his arm as a lifeline to whisk her away from this misogynistic roundtable from hell. “Jesus Christ, yes please,” she linked arms with him in a heartbeat, hoping he’ll take her to the nearby bar.

Once they were out of the execs’ earshot, she decided to scold him. “You’re late again,” she playfully hit his arm. “Yet, I was right on time,” he reminded her of his small act of chivalry. She rolled her eyes knowing he had a good point. Thank god for her personal Kiwi Jesus for saving her from a possible PR scandal.

“Gone day drinking?”  
“Mhmm.”  
“To the bar, then?  
“You bet your toned ass.”  
  
Taika smirked at his favorite wild card as he followed her command. Meanwhile, she tried to process the PR scandal she avoided by a hair. This John Hughes-themed soiree by GQ Magazine is great. Shit luck she didn’t knew this throwback party came with ’80s misogynistic sensibilities too.  
  
She doesn’t have any problem getting crass and aggressive if she or anyone around her was wronged. But surviving Hollywood if you’re aren’t white man is tricky. Sometimes, one needs to choose their battles.

If they tried approaching her again later, she’s ready to put a foot in their ass. Fuck her career at this point.

“Fuck ‘em, we’ll kick their ass later,” he muttered. She chuckled at his ability to read her mind just like that. Apart from being their friends’ circles de facto power couple, this might be the trait she loved about their relationship. The director-screenwriter couple taking award shows by storm. Well, at least, that’s how the People Magazine issue she read at a gas station once said.

“Let’s get shitfaced first.”

They found themselves on a white sofa sandwiched in between a bottle of sauvignon. Measuring her alcohol intake since Taika arrived, she has downed three wine glasses so far. She might be cute as a button. But damn, this woman drank like a monster—and it turned him on more than ever.

Sometimes, she can’t help but think it’s becoming a problem.

“Hollywood is turning me into an alcoholic,” she huffed while placing her glass down at a nearby ottoman. Taika rolled his eyes at the thought. Drinking the last drop of wine in his glass, he placed his near hers before doing a short test to ease her mind.

“Miss Ishida, do you drink on a daily?”  
“Only every two weeks.”  
“Could you live without alcohol?”  
“Can’t live without coffee.”  
  
Taika placed her arm around her. “Well, there you go,” he kissed her temple. “You’re golden as always.”

They’ve been going out for a while. Still, every kiss he planted on her made her fluster. This moment wasn’t any different. He loved the effect he had on her. As for the effect she had on him? Well, let’s just say he always tries to keep it on the down-low. It’s out of character for him being the loudmouth that he was.

Still, even men like him have their secrets. But he already had an inkling she knows.

“There you guys are,” another Kiwi accent entered her earshot by surprise. “I’ve left 20 missed calls on both of your phones. Thought you guys were dead.”

Jemaine stood there with a frantic expression and a dash of anxiety. Sporting a red oversized jersey and tan chino pants, their group costume finally made sense to onlookers. They’re the Ferris Bueller gang if John Hughes had a casting director was United Colors of Benetton.

After a long sigh, he motioned the lovebirds to scoot. They did as they were told without missing a beat. Ame lifted the wine bottle between them, so Jemaine can sit in between them. Taika and her were really more of a throuple if she’s being honest. Like what the photo Ame tweeted three weeks ago indicated; “Ah yes, me, my boyfriend and his boyfriend Jemaine.”

“Nice Sloane, Ishida,” Jemaine commented in passing as she gave him the bottle for him to keep up with them. “Nah thanks, I don’t day drink.” She lifted the bottle away from his grasp and began to place it on the ottoman. But before she can set it aside, their Ferris held her by the wrist.

“Oh come on, Jem. You don’t have places to be.”  
“You don’t know that.”

“You’re at a glaringly white party. You’d need it.”  
“Guys—“  
  
Ame shook Taika’s grip on her wrist, so she can place the bottle in between Jemaine’s legs. Their de facto third wheel rolled his eyes at his best friend’s attempts on peer pressure. “Look, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she became their voice of reason.

Taika leaned back and mouthed a response to her, so their third can’t see: “What the fuck, Ame?” She followed suit and mouthed back: “It’s fine. Just trust me.” They went back to their positions before Jemaine rouse any suspicion. Once they went back, they found him shrugging in defeat.

“Well, I guess one drink can’t hurt,” he murmured as he opened the bottle. Behind his back, the couple did a quick victory fist bump. Jemaine poured his drink without looking at the couple he was sandwiched in between in. “Y’know, I can see you guys,” he murmured in passing. Placing the bottle down the floor, he chuckled at their childishness.

“Dicks. The both of you,” he said as he downed his first glass.

It didn’t take long for Jemaine and Ame to be left alone by their Ferris. What can the two of them say? Taika was the life of the party wherever he goes. He’s their personal Tinkerbell. Without applause, he might actually die. They never tested their collective theory. But they knew he’ll cry on the dancefloor he was on if he wasn’t surrounded by his constituents.

Drinking their glass of wine unison, they both let out a big sigh. Ame had her legs rested on Jemaine’s lap as she nursed her tipsy self. As for Jemaine, his one arm was rested on the sofa’s lining while his free hand rested on her thigh.

“Wait, come again?”  
  
She sighed in exasperation as she recalled the incident from earlier. “So these two sleazy Hollywood execs started talking about why women lactate when they’re horny,” she slurred. “Th-then, they argued that it was gaslighting if the woman doesn’t lactate during sex,” she finished her story with Jemaine cackling on the side.

“These asswipes held me verbally hostage, Jem,” she cackled with him. Her absurd experience left them both in stitches. “How are they still alive? I thought you’d murder them by now,” he snickered. He was met with a simple shrug followed by an obligatory wine sip. “Taika got to them before I could.”  
  
“Wait, he beat ‘em up?” he did a follow-up question. “Pfft, nah. He whisked me away from a PR disaster,” she shrugged. He picked up the bottle from the floor to tap her up. That anecdote got him cackling, but it also pissed him off all the same. She visibly tried to get over what happened earlier. Still, it doesn’t hide the fact that it wore her tenacity down.

“Men are assholes.”  
“We are garbage.”  
  
They clinked their wine glasses with a shared chuckle in between. Out of the three of them, Jemaine really was their rock. Taika and Ame were two extremes that weirdly went well together. He brought the sunshine, while she was a thunderstorm. Their third, on the other hand, brought the balance.

“I just—“ Ame stopped herself. She tried to string her words together. Unfortunately, alcohol doesn’t help. It obliterated her filter and what’s left of her candor. Upon realizing this, she let out a huge sigh followed by an aggravated groan. “—want people to take me seriously. To take my stories seriously.”

“Hey,” Jemaine reached out for her hand. “You could’ve just told, y’know?” he provided her a sense of comfort. “Ican pull some strings, ask around.” She smiled at the thought of him pulling through for her. He always does it even though he doesn’t need to. Maybe it comes with the perks of being his tight-knit?

“And besides,” he continued, “Your man’s been rubbing shoulders like crazy nowadays. He probably has a Rolodex of contacts for you right now.” She shrugged at his idea, not exactly enjoying the thought of owing Taika something. It might be the strong, independent woman in her talking. But she really just wanted the opportunity to mount something by herself.

Her boys coming through for her sounded sweet. Too bad she’s still trying to unlearn her innate stubbornness.

“Thanks anyway,” she said in response. In Ame’s speak, that was a flat no. It’s something Taika and Jemaine had to pick up in order to catch up with her frantic lifestyle. Jemaine motioned his hands to signal him conceding to her demands of doing this her way.

Once she set her mind on something, it’s hard to go against it. She wanted it the hard way in an industry where connections were everything. This might be a dumbass move on her part. Still, her pride was telling her it has to be done her way without anyone to lean on. These two Kiwi assholes did it—why can’t she?

“Anyways…” Jemaine slapped his hands on his knees wanting to move on from the heavy atmosphere their previous conversation brought. “Jemaine and Ame side adventures?” he offered a way out of her stress. Chugging her last glass, she slammed it on her armrest and whipped her head to face him.

“Let’s go, Cameron,” she stood up from where she was sitting with her arm hooked, waiting for him to link arms with her. “Ah, a gentleman after my own heart,” he quipped before they officially went back to the crowd they were dreading to swim in hours before.

Jemaine and Ame’s side adventures consisted of the following: hiding orange slices on random people’s pockets without getting caught, having their own “Breakfast Club” dance montage at the uncrowded foyer, treating discarded trashes around the area like art, and pretending to be snobby art critics, and lastly, watching the party unfold by the villa’s terrace.

They traded champagne for IPA beers. Clinking the bottle, they downed it until they reached its neck. Ame folded her arms on the terrace banister as she rested her head on top of it. By her side, Jemaine spreaded his hands over the banister, gripping on it for his dear life.

Within the trio, the two of them were the reasonable ones. But they are still dumb enough to haul their drunken asses at a height danger zone.

“We’re amazing at parties.”  
“Fuck yeah, we are.”  
  
They gave each other undeserved props despite never interacting with anyone else in the gathering. While they watched the crowd rubbed elbows and share drunken laughter over synth-filled ’80s hits, a sudden anomaly caught their attention. Someone just accidentally set a middle-aged man’s sports jacket on fire.

When they saw the fleck of peppered locks cackling with a small blow torch and a cocktail, the side adventures duo suddenly sobered up. “Ah shit,” they said unison before bolting down the staircase to escort their third away from the chaos. The main adventure of the afternoon had finally arrived.

Fog coming out of fire extinguishers greeted them as they descended down the stairs. Before their brain can process what was happening, the man who started this chaos emerged from the smoke.  
  
“C’mon gang, we’re getting outta here,” he wiggled his brows, shooting finger guns at them. Jemaine and Ame stood there stunned with mouths agape. What the fuck did Taika Waititi do now?

Without missing a beat, he pulled them by the wrists and the trio bolted together. Security was at a loss on who had caused the commotion. But before the middle-aged man could point them out, Taika was pulling them by the wrists and the trio bolted out of there.

“Fuck me, I just wanted to day drink,” Jemaine muttered. As they ran away, they heard men screaming for them to halt. Luckily for the trio, they were already heading out the parking lot, away from the chaos.

Seatbelts on. Panting on deck. Grinning Waititi on the driver’s seat.

They drove away from the sign of imminent, career-ending danger. Silence and heavy breathing dominated Taika’s Jeep. Ame, stricken with worry on the passenger seat, rubbed her temples, and tried to assess what happened.

Jemaine, on the other hand, did not have Ame’s patience.

“The fuck was that all about?!” Jemaine exclaimed, clearly the only sane one in the care at that moment. “That my friends—” Taika looked at his work wife in the rearview mirror. “—was a lesson on misogyny and the art of revenge.”

Ame and Jemaine shot a look at one another. Unbelievable, this motherfucker is un-fucking-believeable. He actually gave those misogynistic producers a lesson they cannot forget with simple dry cleaning.  
  
“You didn’t…” her head whipped at the direction of their designated driver. “Oh…. oh.. you bastard,” Jemaine and Taika shared a hearty guffaw.

“C’mere,” Jemaine leaned forward the driver’s seat and jokingly strangled Taika by the arm. Clearly half amused and half annoyed, Ame’s slapped Jemaine’s arm away, huffing from the sight of them clowning around. “Stop it! I need to kill him for later.”

Jemaine backed off, still laughing from this incredulous afternoon. Taika feigned sadness and pouted. “You could’ve ruined your career—our careers by fucking with an exec!” Ame exclaimed, hitting playfully on the arm repeatedly, her words serving as her metronome.

“Okay! I would like a ‘thank you,’ please. Not violence.”

Ame’s huffed at the corner dealing with her disbelief. On the back seat, Jemaine kept chuckling to himself, sloshed to high heavens. Their designated driver, on the other hand, was rather pleased with himself.

“Thanks,” Ame’s reluctantly muttered. Taking one long deep breath, she tried to come into peace with the hand she was dealt with. She might’ve lost her chance with getting her film funded, might’ve lost her career with these three assholes, but at least, those bigots learned their lesson.

“Guess we’re banned from GQ parties from now on,” Jemaine brought up out of nowhere. “Damn it, I really like their open bars,” Ame chimed in. However, their third was uncharacteristically silent. Too silent actually.

The rest of the drive only had Jemaine and Ame’s banter. All throughout, Taika was deep in his thoughts. His gaze never wavered from the road. If Ame wasn’t so sloshed, she would’ve taken note of his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

In the lull of the conversation about the other two’s side adventures, Taika decided it was time to chime in.

“Those white men can fuck off,” he muttered. “Fuck their validation. Fuck their money. You’re already a great filmmaker.”

“I need the money tho—“  
“We’ll give you the money. We can do it.”  
“But I—“

“—Ame, please.” Serious Taika rarely ever comes out. But when he does, he can command a room. His frustration, worry and anger became palpable inside the car. Jemaine kept mum the whole time. As for Ame, she can only nod in reluctance.

The silence grew between the three. While taking a turn, Ame reached out for Taika’s hand resting on the clutch. She lifted his hand and left a soft kiss of sincere appreciation.

“I love you,” she said in her softest tone. He turned his gaze away from the road and kissed her hand right back. “I know,” he let out a soft chuckle, not exactly the most romantic response, but she knew what he meant.

It was a tender moment between Ame and Taika. Although they had their own individual paths in their careers, they always looked out for one another. No matter how unconventional ‘looking out for one another’ can get.

With a loud, taxing groan from the back, the tender moment was broken.

“Ferris Bueller, you're my hero,” Jemaine said in a mocking tone. His mockery was met with a unified eye roll from his friends. “Can we get some food now?’

“I’d like Popeye’s right now.”

“Shit, me too.”

Taika turned on the radio. Mamas and the Papa’s “California Dreamin’” played by a stroke of luck. With delight painted on the trio’s face, they drove into the sunset on a quest to quell their drunken state and sang off-key to a ’60s classic. Completely desecrating it with their mismatched harmonies.

Men and power is seriously a disease. But if Ame has to choose to trust at least two straight men, it might be these two drunk idiots she’s stuck with.

For better or worse, to death do they party.


End file.
